Run Boy Run
by bookloser
Summary: Harry Potter wasn't known as the Boy-Who-Lived but the Boy-Who-Died Harry Potter wasn't even known as that- not even to himself. No, he was known as Shadow. And this Shadow wasn't brought up as a Gryffindor but a Lost Boy; the most cherished deaf member of a gang So of course Snape has to be the one to not only find the previously thought dead boy but get caught up in the mess


**SIX YEARS OLD**

Under the stairs of number 4. Privet Drive, a little boy sat motionless, staring at the letters carved into his chest. this one said WORTHLESS. He didn't know how many others he had; _he didn't know anything_, he thought bitterly. He didn't get to go to school. School was for good boys and Sir hadn't been able to beat to freak out of him yet. But that's okay, it's not like he deserves to go to school and he was sure that books weren't that fun to read anyway.

He held in a sob as he reached to get some tissues to clean up the blood that had fallen onto the floor- he was a burden, he doesn't get a mattress, but that was okay because he slept on an old pair of clothes and that was plenty more than he deserved. As he cleaned he scolded himself, _stupid Freak, why can't you do anything right? maybe if we get all the blood out Aunt Petunia would love us..._

But he was so tired. Not necessarily because of his head- which to be honest hurt like a _bitch _from when the boot came down on him... but because of life. He used to ask Nunca (his now dead pet snake) why he had to suffer when all the other boy's didn't but Aunt Petunia told him he wasn't like other boys.

He was Freakboy.

he liked to call himself Freak though, because it was like a nickname all for him! His Aunt and Uncle where very kind because they used his nickname sometimes even though he was a Bad Boy.

He knew that now. He understood that he was bad. But he'd do his best to be good.

If he kept working then one day he'd get a smile or even a hug!

**TEN YEARS OLD**

'Come here, you fucking bastard!' Uncle Vernon roared as the little boy ran._ He couldn't do it anymore. _He let out a small shriek when a meaty hand grabbed his neck and then immediately shrunk back knowing what would happen for his bad behaviour.

' Was that a sound? Did I give you permission to speak?' Spittle flew everywhere but still he didn't move, hopefully letting his uncle get the worst of his anger out verbally. It didn't work.

'You wanna speak? Huh Freak? Well then- Imma teach you to _scream_. And scream he did as his uncle unbuckled his trousers and pulled out his-

'No please! please I'll behave! Please!' Sobbed the boy while his Uncle taught him just how much of a Freak he was.

You might be asking yourself- where was Dudley and Aunt Petunia? _Please_... They didn't care. In the months that followed Dudley would join in with his knife or dick while Aunt Petunia praised her husband for being brave enough to go through such an ordeal.

Freak didn't hate them for it.

How could he? They said he deserved it and they must be right. _They must be,_ he thought while he lay in bed after a particularly violent day. Dudley hadn't won a football match (online of course) and he'd wanted to release his stress.

So, he sat in his cupboard, darkness surrounded him. It was reassuring and petrifying. It was calming because after all that had happened that day, the dark felt like no one could see what was occurring, like of all this was not real.

Make-believe.

No one could see his shame. And with that thought, he fell into a fitful sleep.

The next day something happened. Something bad.

A letter came.

Now at first, Freak didn't know what was wrong. He gave all the post to his Uncle, not knowing one was special but when he went back to cooking breakfast, he felt a shadow line up behind him. Sir put the letter in front of him,

'Do you know what that says? What that means?' Freak stared at the squiggly lines, trying to make some sense of it but to no avail, and shook his head. Sir was being very calm and it frightened FreakBoy.

'It means... that you're still a fucking Freak!' He yelled, smashing the boy into the wall. It didn't stop there. As the boy crumbled onto the floor his Uncle started kicking him, his face purple with anger. it was only when Freak started coughing up blood that he stopped.

'you burnt breakfast. I expect it ready when I come back down,' his uncle stated as he went upstairs, 'and you stained my fucking shirt.' He muttered as he frowned at the little boys blood on his ghastly green button up.

With a groan, Freak pulled himself up the floor feeling himself heal already. that was a trick he learnt early on to stop people for asking questions. he didn't want anyone to know what a bad boy he was. When breakfast was on the table he went back to his cupboard and sat down carefully allowing his probably punctured lung to repair its self. He knew this wasn't normal, it was because he had a disease. He had magic. And magic was very very bad.

The next few weeks where of the same very ordinary nature. He got up, did his chores and any other... extra things his Uncle and Cousin had planned and stayed in his cupboard. The letter went forgotten with his Uncle sending back a reply, saying Freak didn't want to go. Go to what, Freak was still trying to figure out but it wasn't any concern to him anyway. Uncle would never do anything that wasn't in his best interest. That afternoon everyone was going about their own business when a knock sounded at the door. Freak opened it to see a very stern looking lady, wearing some very weird clothes, looking rather put out to be here.

'Ah, there you are child. Dumbledore was worried something had happened to you, what with the strange reply. So I volunteered to come give you a letter myself.' she said while holding the letter out infant of her. Freak just stared at it blankly.

'oh, that's right! I forgot to introduce my self. Professor McGonagall, Deputy Head of Hogwarts, school for witchcraft and wizardry.' she said with a small smile on her face. realisation dawned on Freak- this was the school his Aunt and Uncle where trying to protect him from. He knew he it wouldn't be so easy as to just say no so he tried to be smart about it. he plastered on a grin and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly,

'Sorry Miss, but I'm going somewhere else. Another teacher came and said they'd give me a scholarship and everything. Me and my family where about to go get my supplies now." The Professor looked shocked. But she didn't tell him that there was no other school for magic so he knew he'd guessed right. He wasn't smart- but even he knew that there would have to be more than one school for magic in the _entire_ world.

'Well, this is an interesting development. I don't suppose you'll change your mind?' Freak shook his head, 'no I didn't think you would. Your Father was just ask stubborn, you know.' Freak startled at the mention of his Good-for-Nothing Father. He wanted to ask her if he really had hated Freak so much as to kill himself but the teacher was already turning away and so Freak walked back into the Hell-Hole he lived in.

**TWELVE YEARS OLD**

_He did it. _

_He ran away._

He knew his Uncle was yelling at him as he ran away limping; knife still stuck in his leg. But he gritted his teeth against the pain as he ran.

Eventually he ran out of fuel and found an abandoned warehouse that looked safe. Looking around him and seeing no one, he blended into some shadows and felt a tingly feeling wash over him as he transported himself into the building. He collapsed and propped himself up against the wall and he let out all of the pent up emotion go in one shuddering breath. His consciousness was fading but suddenly there was a pale concerned face in front of him.

He raised his hands in front of him, shielding his face as she said something, while looking down to presumably find a hair tie for her short blonde hair.

'I don't know what you're saying,' he croaked out. Realisation dawned on her and he saw her sign something but he told her he never learned the language. ' Do you mind just speaking slower?' She nodded.

'Are you okay? My name is Sangre. Did you run away from home?' He nodded.

'That's okay, so did we.' He looked behind her after catching the plural and say more dirty looking kids behind her, looking at him with tears in their eyes due to his current state. 'You don't ever have to go back. You're part of our family now... that is, if that's okay with you?' Freak nodded gratefully, trying to hold the blackness at bay. She lit up with his acceptance and he stared at her with wonder in her eyes; no one ever looked at him with happiness.

'Can you tell me your name?' He looked apprehensive at that, ' you can change it if you want, but make it good.' She said with a wink.

'What about FB?' There. That would work. FB. Short for FreakBoy- but she didn't need to know that. Sangre seemed pleased with his choice but then said,

'Well if you insist, but I'm gonna call you Shadow because don't think we didn't see you form from the dark like some kind of mutant Alien baby.' She said waggling her finger at him. He looked at her eyes and saw laugh lines so he cracked a smile, knowing she was teasing him. She called out some other things to the other kids and suddenly there was a blanket around him.

'this is Baby.' She said gesturing to a really tall and scary looking boy with multiple tattoos and piercings. His favourite was the lip ring. ' We call him that because when we firs' saw him he had a plastic doll that he refused to let go of.' Baby roller his grey eyes and shook out his dyed red hair. She pointed to the girl next to him who had the biggest afro he'd ever seen. ' This is Silver. We call her that because she always seems to know where to steal it from. she's also deaf, so if you ever want to learn sign language, hit her up.' She stared at him with kind brown eyes and decided to take her up on her offer. 'The next but not last is Rybet... we call him that because he has a weird fascination with frogs.' She said laughing at a nice looking guy with neat brown hair and a latin complexion. 'He acts like our teacher, because he graduated at... like ten.'

'Sandy we've been through this I was fifteen.'

'Oh I'm soooo sorry.' She said rolling her eyes. FB snickered, they acted like an old married couple. He wanted to hear more but soon the pain in his leg got to be too much and he felt the floor come to meet him.

But he didn't care.

He didn't care that he was, now as of tonight, deaf.

He didn't care the Dursley's would probably try to kill him if they saw him again.

He didn't even care that he probably just joined a crime gang, filled with teenagers and kids.

Because for the first time in his life FB had something that no one could take away from him-

He had a home.


End file.
